


Presumptuous

by tielan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Smut, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill's opinion of Steve Rogers in bed: "A+ partner, would fuck again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presumptuous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



> I wanted to write ALL THE KINK, but alas this has turned out somewhat vanilla-y. Choc-chip ripple dipple next time, perhaps?

 

Steve is mostly running on adrenaline when he puts his hand in the small of Hill’s back as the safehouse elevator doors close.

The slow turn of her head and the look she gives him speak volumes. “Rogers.”

“Hill.” He doesn’t move his hand and her expression changes, subtle shifts of awareness.

“You’re presuming a lot.”

“Am I wrong?”

It’s bravado and a hum in his blood after today’s mission – completed, successful, and celebrated. Steve stayed for drinks with the STRIKE guys, but when they made murmurs about heading out for further ‘entertainment’, he extricated himself from the group and headed back.

He hadn’t expected Maria Hill. And, from the way her eyes widen, she hadn’t been expecting him, either.

“It would be a bad idea.”

“But not a repulsive one?” Still, the criticism chides his forwardness, and he drops his hand. Peggy was right, he really didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with a wom—

“Oh, hell,” Hill murmurs and turns towards him.

Steve sees her hands fastening on his shirt front, under his jacket, knows he’s about to be pulled down. His body tenses for a split-second – not even the span of a heartbeat – before he relaxes and she yanks his face down to hers, their lips meeting hard.

Her kiss is like everything else about her – incisive and determined. But after a moment she pauses, her lips parting, as though she’s surprised by what she’s done. Steve swiftly cups her head with one hand and leans in, tasting, testing. And her breath catches in her throat before she presses back. Her fingers flex in the fabric of his shirt; she doesn’t object to his touch as he slides a hand about her waist.

Surprise turns to sweetness, and sweetness to heat. The press of her body against his is doing dangerous things to his pulse. When Steve pulls back a little – even supersoldiers need to breathe once in a while – there’s frank desire in eyes no longer carefully shuttered, and the open doors of the elevator are slowly closing on them – his floor.

“Here,” he says, and jabs the button so the doors slide open again, herding her out of the elevator car. Again, there’s the tension in her body, the momentary resistance before she allows herself to be led out.

Steve pauses as the elevator doors close, dropping his hand from her spine, turning to look at her in the downlights of the foyer. Has he misjudged? Out of all the women he’s met since he woke up, he thought Maria Hill would be the least likely to put up with a courtesy she didn’t want. But her hesitation worries him.

“Did you want—?” He pauses. “I don’t want you to feel…obligated in any way…”

Hill gives him a look, then rolls her eyes. A moment later, she steps up to him, toe to toe, and hauls him down so hard their teeth clash. Then her mouth is moving in his, her lips nipping hard at him, her tongue slick and swift against his. Relieved, Steve cups her cheek as he slants his mouth over hers.

Soft, slow kisses get them through the lounge, shedding his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt on the way. Sucking nips on her throat and jaw get her zipper undone and her dress slipped from her shoulders in the corridor. And they transition to fierce bites as he peels his shirt off, and her fingers tear at his belt buckle. He steps out of his trousers as they reach the bedroom door, hoists her up against the wall and presses them hip to hip in a rough and urgent grind of fabric and flesh.

Steve groans in his throat, a broken hum as she shifts against him. “Keep moving like that,” he rasps, “and I won’t last long.”

Hill snorts, her breath skating his cheek. “Short fuse, soldier?”

“It’s been a while—” He grabs her by the hips, holding her in place so she can’t move against him, so he can regain his breath and a little of his sanity.

It doesn’t stop her. Of course it doesn’t stop her. Because she wraps her hands around his neck and her lips stroke along the line of her jaw up to his ear.

“I want you in me,” she murmurs in a voice that skitters down his spine and up his dick like a hard jolt of electricity. “Fast and hard.”

“You prefer it fast.” He’s not entirely surprised – swift and economical would be her thing. Perversely, Steve wants to go slower – to take his time, linger over her like she’s something to be savoured. “We don’t always get what we want, you know.”

He pulls Hill up against him, moves with her to the bed, eases her down on the sheets – long limbs and a too-slim body clad in plain black underthings. Somehow, it’s sexier than all the lace and curves of modern models.

Climbing onto the bed, he eases himself over her, his mouth coming down on hers. And she meets him, fiery and intent, in the here and now – no lying back and thinking of God and country.

He’d have to take measures if she was.

As it is, as Maria slides her tongue into his mouth, Steve slides his hand in under the cotton cup of her bra and closes his hand over her breast. She presses up into his touch, teasing him with kisses, her hips lifting to meet his. She grinds up against him, makes a growl in her throat – a frustration that makes Steve grin against her mouth.

“You think this is funny?”

He nips at the sharp line of her mouth. “A little.” But he lowers himself onto her, and she spreads her legs so his erection presses hard against a soft wetness that’s evident even through two layers of fabric. Her hips lift, and he thrusts, and they find a rhythm that works for both of them if the catch in her breath is any indication, if the balling ache in his belly is any sign.

But he’s a little too eager right now, and Steve doesn’t consider it courteous to bring a woman to bed and dry hump her until he comes in his underthings.

So Steve pulls back, rolls off and sits up, climbing off the bed while Maria’s still staring at him, her gaze blurred with desire, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe. He can see her trying to collect her senses, trying to regain her dignity.

He doesn’t want that.

Stripping off his boxers is the work of a moment, and the slight widening of her eyes is all the stroke his ego needs – and his dick, if it comes to that. Not that Maria’s gaze lingers there as she props herself up on her elbows, wisps of her hair drifting down around her face – her eyes skim up his body, linger on his shoulders, before drifting back down over him.

“Good enough?”

Her smile is slow and satisfied as he climbs back over her, planting his elbows either side of her body. “I’ll let you know later.”

“A challenge?”

“You’re surprised?”

His fingers find her bra clasp, fumble with it for a moment before he unhooks it. “Nope.” His mouth meets hers, and they nip and cling and sip and suck as they slip the straps from her shoulders and pull her bra off over her arms. Steve tosses it off the bed – it catches on the edge of the bed and slides off a moment later with a soft plop – and sits back on his haunches to look at her.

She’s slim, with the long, lean muscles of an athlete rather than the lush curves of a pin-up girl, and the awareness of it is like a sting as she looks up at him, a defiance in her eyes. “Good enough?”

Steve knows better than to answer that with words.

He kisses her, leaning deeply into her mouth, tracing his fingers down her side and feeling her shiver. Then her hand wraps around him, and he grunts in surprise and sensation. She’s not gentle, either, taking a firm grip before pumping him once, twice, three times, four... Steve drags her hand away, pinning it to the bed, and bites her lips gently in warning.

“Can’t take it, Rogers?”

“Don’t tempt me.” Steve wants nothing more than to tear off her panties, shove himself into her body, and ride her until she can’t think. But he also wants to make this last. Then he blinks at the slight tremble that quivers through her. Not fear, he thinks as he cups one breast in his hand and lowers his head back to her mouth...

It is, he thinks as they drug each other in the give and take of kisses, a seduction of sorts. Not the sex itself, but persuading her to take it slowly – to savour the experience and not just gulp it down all at once. Yes, they could go fast, a swift and satisfying fuck. But Steve realises he really does want to take his time, like she’s something to be savoured. The opportunity to see Maria Hill unguarded and undone is one he senses shouldn’t be passed by.

So he lingers over her jaw and her throat, over her collarbones and her shoulders. His hands cup and cradle and stroke while she rakes her fingernails across his shoulders, clenches her hands in his hair, and gives instructions in a voice that’s no less authoritative for its huskiness.

It frustrates her – more than a little bit if the grunt of annoyance is any indication as his leg presses her thigh back down to the bed. She’d lifted it to rub against his cock as his fingers drew down the waistband of her panties, revealing springy dark curls and the raw scent of her desire.

“You’re a tease, Rogers,” she hisses through lips swollen from nips and kisses.

Steve grins as he slides his index finger deep into her body. “Can’t take it, Hill?”

Her teeth have dug into her lower lip, and her lashes are lowered, hiding her reaction. And Steve wants to see her eyes, wants to watch her come on his finger, open and unhidden.

Steve knows better than to demand that of Maria Hill.

So he sits up, changing position so he’s kneeling between her ankles, so he can pin her hips into place as he bends and strokes his tongue along the little bud of flesh and nerve—

Maria moans, and her head thumps back against the pillow, her hips pushing up against his hands, against his mouth.

Steve takes it as encouragement.

He learned this before the serum – a little guy who had to work to keep the dames interested. He didn’t have much by way of equipment or stamina maybe, but he didn’t need size when he had his hands and his mouth and a willingness to please his partner.

Now, it’s more a matter of how long _she_ can last.

Maria’s hands cup his head, curving into the hollow behind his skull as her hips move with his lips. He figures it’s a rhythm that works for her because it’s not long before she shudders, her breath hissing sharply between her teeth. And Steve grins as her hands clench in his hair and keeps going, delicate and ferocious by turns until this time she cries out, a sharp and needy sound.

More than prepared to going yet again, it takes Steve a few seconds of hard tugging at his hair to realise that she’s pulling his head up.

He touches his fingertip to the swollen pink bud – the barest skim of flesh against flesh. But Maria’s breath catches, and her hand closes over his.

“No.” When he arches his brows, her breasts rise and fall in a huff of amusement. “I need _something_ left over to deal with _that_.” Her gaze rests on his erection, and a hot and pleasurable ache curls in Steve’s belly.

“Why don’t you let _me_ deal with that?”

“Because that’s not how I roll, Rogers.”

“Considering where I’ve been the last ten minutes,” he says, “I’d prefer you called me ‘Steve’.”

Apparently, it _is_ how her eyes roll. Steve grins down at her, then jerks aside as she kicks one leg up into the air. She’s not aiming for him, though, just using it as a counterweight to get herself sitting up. One hand pushes at his shoulder, urging him down onto his back. Steve goes, willing to see where she takes him.

He kind of expects her to be a little rough – to wrap her hands around him again and drive him wild.

Instead, Maria leans over him, her hands against his chest for balance as she brushes her mouth up the line of his jaw to the earlobe, which she sucks into her mouth, warm and wet and slippery. Steve jerks, his breath catching at the elegant sensuosity of it. She’s barely touching him anywhere save his chest and his earlobe, and his cock is already throbbing in time to the pressure of her mouth.

He cups her head, tilting her face to him so he can kiss her, deep and drowning.

Maria breaks away first – panting, at least – and dots kisses along his jaw, down his throat, across his pecs...

Taunting little nips that wind him tighter, every nerve in his body humming as she draws lower, the cloud of her hair trailing over his belly as she runs her tongue along the line of his hip...

Then lifts her head. “Condom?”

Steve blinks, a little dazed. “Bedside drawer,” he manages at last. Then catches his breath as she swirls one fingertip over the tip of his erection and grins as he twitches.

Maria’s smirk is breathtaking as she leans over to the bedside table to retrieve a few of the little packets stashed there.

“Someone was _very_ prepared to get lucky.”

It takes Steve a moment to find a reply. “Sure it’s not you? You only need one this time.”

A wash of pink stains her cheeks and throat, but her answer is jaunty. “Well, we’ll start at just one.”

Straddling his thighs, she peels the condom open with teasing slowness, then rubbers him with agonising care, her fingertips stroking down his dick, before she takes him in her mouth and—

He doesn’t grab her head, although he wants to flex his fingers in her hair. He doesn’t lift his hips, although he wants to thrust into her mouth. He doesn’t tell her what to do, although the idea of her doing exactly what he tells her is kind of hot—

By the time Maria rises up over him, though, Steve’s not far off from the end of his tether. His fingers curl over her hipbones with careful gentleness, guiding her up as she fits herself over him and _pauses_ —

Steve almost laughs. It transmutes to a groan as she sinks down, almost impaling herself on him – hot and tight and so damned good. Then her body tightens around him, her eyes aflame with mischief as he makes a noise like steam escaping a kettle.

“Too much?”

“Unexpected.” But good. Steve urges her to rise up on her knees, drawing herself up only to slide down on him again. And he aches and yearns, pressure and pleasure in the rise and fall of her body, in the intimacy of their breath mingling as he leans his forehead against hers, skims his hands over her shoulders and back, cradles her bottom in his hands...

That’s how he orgasms, minutes – or maybe hours – later, his body bright and burning, like the agony and the ecstacy of the serum. And she lifts her head at his indrawn breath. “Steve?”

“Yes.” But his hands urge her to keep moving on him, to ride him through the orgasm, to make it last. From past experience, he knows he has a little more in him before he flags, and it’s not necessary, but he’d kind of like— “Do you need—? Is there anything I can—?” It takes him a moment to realise the noises she’s making are stifled laughter. “Maria?”

“Are you even real?”

“Excuse me?”

Laughter shakes her body and she kisses him – brieft and intense and unexpected. “Just hold on...”

And she starts riding him again – a different rhythm, less thrusting, more rolling, her hands splayed on his chest, her head turned a little aside as she moves on him.

He touches her chin, trying to catch her eye, trying to meet her gaze. “Maria...”

“Shush,” she whispers, and closes her eyes.

Steve shushes, at least for the moment. He lets himself be used as a sex toy. It’s more than a little hot. But when she bites her lip, slows her pace, and stills, panting, he draws her down against him and wraps his arms around her so she can’t climb off.

“You’re weirdly cuddly, Rogers,” she murmurs some time later, just when he thinks she might have fallen asleep.

“You’d prefer that I rolled off and kicked you out?” Steve makes the question mild, because he suspects the answer is _Yes_.

She sighs. “No. This is good.” Then she lifts her head off his shoulder and her smile is wry. “A-plus partner, Rogers, would fuck again.”

“With one caveat.” He feels her tense against him, her body suddenly tight with uncertainty. Her spine is long and smooth and he likes the feel of it against his palm. “Next time, I’d like you to look at me when I’m fucking you.”

After a moment she relaxes. “I thought _I_ was fucking _you_.”

“And here I thought it was mutual.”

“You’re presuming a lot.”

Steve smiles up at the ceiling. In spite of the belligerence tinging her voice, there’s a surrender in it, too. “But am I wrong?”

Maria sighs, a long susurration of breath. “No,” she murmurs. “You’re not."

If it's not quite the surrender Steve wanted, he figures it's the surrender he can accept - at least for the moment.


End file.
